A/N: Because I found it astounding that there was a distinct lack of Konohamaru and Asuma fics. I ate a lot of chewing gum and drank a lot of ginger-ale in the process of writing this, and also overdosed on weeknd. So pardon the angst, tragedy or whatever this might come with. I really adore konohamaru, and honestly out of the entire generation, he was the only one who looks 10/10 in the end. Started from the bottom and now we're here, eh?
Also, does anyone else really dig Kurenai and Asuma? Holy f-mother of chakra, that couple is hot.
Haa! I really dig the family genre, maybe I'll try an Itachi and Sasuke one next, but those two are so overdone, overwrought with angst that I have no idea what to write about. This was sort of a character-study thing around the Sarutobi family. It was actually suprisingly fluid to write about. Pardon any canon-divergence, I never really follow canon unless it makes sense to my story to do so. Multi-chaptered fics like Transient is a whole other matter in this respect in comparison to my one-shots.
Actually if you want to kick up the angst a lot more listen to 'Sleeping with Sirens-Iris'. I know, I know, the original is better, but damnit his voice gives me feels.
The single ANBU member was kneeling before him, and Konohamaru let his hands fall to his sides. The ANBU held a single white rose and an envelope. He was too young to know what the envelope meant, until he opened it.
Iruka-sensei had his arm around the boy, squeezing him tight. The rain was bearing down heavily on his black shirt, and he couldn't stop the sniffles, he couldn't stop crying.
"It hurts," he said, "Why does it hurt so much?"
"D-does it ever stop?" He asked the older man. And for the first time in all the years of being a teacher, Iruka did not know how to answer that question.
And sometimes in the mornings after, he still imagined grandpa pinching him awake.
"Get up Konohamaru," he would groan. And the boy would shoot up and glare at his grandpa.
"Rise and shine!" His grandpa would smile at him.
And then muttering, he scampered off the bed and fell into the tangle of covers and limbs on the floor with a thud. He gazed around at the sun-lit room of the late afternoon. Grandpa was always up early. He sobbed into his covers and pulled it over his head.
But Konohamaru never sat still for long. Between the scratchy condolences and the sympathetic smiles, he never understood why they all looked so darn helpless. So he might have done a little bit of research and learned more about his grandpa's death that everyone seemed inclined on hiding from him.
Konoha was vulnerable in the wake of the attack.
But the village was busy rebuilding itself, and everyone was looking out for the next Hokage. And no one noticed him leave, not his nannies, not Iruka-sensei who came to visit him with food and definitely not pervy Ebisu-sensei who was knocked out cold with a decent dose of Sexy-no-jutsu.
"Uhm…are you sure this is a good idea?" Moegi (his future would-be advisor if he became Hokage) glanced at him, adjusting the straps of her bag.
He snorted. So far they had only made it as far as the forest outside the village gates, and they had fought the gate guards and used the best sexiest jutsu ever, causing both guards to gush into nosebleeds. Boss man Naruto would have been so proud of him.
"Of course! We're going to find that snakey-man and then we're going to pound him like this and like that!" He threw a fist at the air animatedly.
Moegi scratched her cheek nervously.
"But my mom will worry about where I am." She said in a small voice, not altogether convinced.
"You did make that clone I told you about, didn't you?"
Moegi's mother did find her daughter's clone. An older version of her, with excessively large boobs. The clone poofed away. It took her a few seconds to gather her thoughts together, before settling on one conclusion.
She screamed.
And thus, the village launched a search for the honorable grandson and that Moegi girl. To the already strained council members and the harassed ANBU who were still in pursuit of remaining sound-ninjas, the Hokage's grandson was a pain in the rear end. And one single jounin sighed, scratched his head and took off, past the gate guards.
He lit a cigarette and blew out wearily before fixing his eyes on his nephew. He was the spitting image of his brother. Asuma wasn't entirely certain of how many deaths he could handle before he would be the one underground. But shinobi took slaughter like sheep.
Konohamaru gritted his gap toothed face, glaring at the upside down man, he was held up by a single foot. There was blood on his lip and a dirt on his face. Beneath the shadows of the trees that the first Hokage had grown over the village to protect it, the leaves swaying gently in the dusk breeze, and the harkening the coming of night.
His friend, Moegi was also looking downwards sheepishly, she gripped the straps of her bag pack and bit her lip.
"So," Asuma started, pulling out the cigarette from his lips, "What exactly is going on here?"
He ignored Konohamaru's ineffectual attempts at kicking at him.
"Let me go!" Konohamaru yelped, "Go away monkey-uncle!"
Asuma pulled him up further, and brought him up to eye level. The little squirt was scowling at him for a few seconds before acquiescing.
"I'm going to fight him."
"Who?"
"Nunya beeswax." He sent him the most intimidating scowl that he could muster.
Asuma put the cigarette back into his mouth, deep in thought, his eyes lingered over their backpacks and over to the direction that the sun was setting in. He had a faint suspicion that it had to do with his father's death.
And years of shinobi training still hadn't taught him how to deal with loss or the people left behind. He handled it in the best way he could.
And perhaps it was always the children who cried then.
So he let out a weary sigh.
"You were going south, the sound village is in the north."
The boy stopped flailing and stiffened.
Asuma let him go.
Konohamaru fell with a yelp, thudding on the ground. And the boy picked himself up, slightly muffled with his scarf that his face was buried in.
"Ow ow ow…." He rubbed his behind.
And Asuma's eyes scans over his fallen backpack, the same backpack his grandpa had ordered for him a few months ago, complete with a set of books and pencils for the academy, now filled with badly stuffed clothes and bowls of instant ramen. He suspected that latter part had to do with Kakashi's boy.
And the boy was looking at him with a pouty upper-lip, trying hard not to cry, nose scrunched up and glaring at him. He looked strikingly like his brother after a spar when he was soundly beaten.
And for a second he imagined what his brother would say.
"You fat loser! You cheated! Y-You weren't supposed to use kage-bunshin!"
"Sorry little brother, losers remain losers." He would sing out.
He rubbed his neck, faintly trying to block out more nostalgic thoughts.
And he had to admit that he had been neglecting to see the boy lately, between village duties and his new genin team. But there was another reason. Perhaps his brother's death had left him apathetic.
"He's your younger brother's son?" Yuuhi Kurenai lifted up her glass to her lips and glanced over at the boy who was currently causing shenanigans in the middle of the market place, Ebisu-sensei had one hand placed firmly on his head and was bowing low, apologizing profusely to a particularly angry merchant. Asuma looked over at the boy. He looked more and more like his father, each day. The boy met his gaze. He turned his head away.
"Yeah."
"You two don't talk much, do you?"
"Nah." Asuma ran a hand through his hair tiredly, he always knew where this conversation went.
"He's a cute kid," Kurenai smiled wistfully, and he let his eyes peer over at her over the rim of his glass, catching sight of her thick pretty curls that framed her pretty face and her deep red irises.
He shuffled his foot from one to the other nervously, when she shifted her amused eyes over towards him. The years had been kind to her, in comparison to the gangly young teenager she had been.
He often caught other men looking at her, and his father would wink at him every time they were seen together around the village. There would be comments about grandkids, tumbling little bundles of joy, but Asuma was never really good with kids or babies for that matter.
"They smell bad," he'd tell his father, complaining about his younger brother when he was a child, "They poop a lot." And his father would laugh.
"Come now, he doesn't poop that much."
He thrust his arms into his pockets and uttered so quietly under his breath that you had to strain your ear, "Mom cares about him more than me."
Hiruzen let out a chuckle, "So this is why? Is this why you tried to cook for her?"
He wouldn't respond, and his cheeks pinked as he thought of the mess on the floor and the broken eggs and the excess flour wasted as a result of his botched attempts at a cake. How hard was it to just mix things?
And then one rainy night, both father and son found themselves on either side of the room, his father had a weary face in his hands, hands propped on the desk. And the flashes of lightning outside the window highlighted the look of utter rage on Asuma's face.
"Who did it?" Asuma bellowed, hands balled into fists, "I'll go and I-I'll…"
"Do what?" His father asked him, his head in his palms, tired, stressed and upset.
Asuma didn't know how to answer, he just felt frustration boiling inside him. He turned around, and slammed the door on his father. Out of the village, out into the cold rainy night.
"So what will you do?"
Konohamaru looked back at his uncle, and stared down at his toes. Asuma crouched in front of him trying meeting his eyes.
"You'll get killed," he says slowly, "It's not worth it."
And Konohamaru refuses to meet his eyes. The girl, Moegi lets a few tears roll down her cheeks and starts to sob. But the boy in front of him is stubborn and hard-faced. Why does everyone just leave him?
"You both will get killed."
And between some memories, he remembers his grandpa hugging him. Grandpa smells of incense and smoke, and Konohamaru is too young to understand the implications of that smell, or the wet face buried into his tuft of soft brown hair.
Through the sleeve of the large, voluminous Hokage robes, Konohamaru asks, "Gramps? When is daddy and momma coming 'ome?"
His grandpa only hugs him tighter. And Konohamaru remembers this, through the scars and the bandages and multiple pranks that he plays. He always gets caught of course. And Grandpa is looking down at him sternly.
But there's always someone better than him.
Ebisu-sensei sits on a farting cushion and the eruption ensues, causing the hiding future Hokage to barrel out of the room with laughter, knocking the pot of plants over. His grandfather is sighing behind his desk. Konohamaru watches as not one but three jounin guards are chasing him down the Hokage's tower, shaking their fists at him. And Konohamaru can't stop giggling till his insides hurt. He likes the boring village better like this. He thinks boss-man's pranks are the best! He think's boss-man is the best thing that's ever happened to this boring village.
Why was everyone so serious when you could laugh and laugh?
"So now listen up, kid," Naruto looks at him through squinty eyes and Konohamaru straightens up, "this training is not for the faint-hearted."
He taps at the board behind him in one of the empty academy classrooms, the light shining in through the open windows. Because good shenanigans is serious business, and you required a good battle plan as well as a potent weapon, indestructible. Konohamaru takes out his academy notebook and scrawls the words down.
Konohamaru's and Bossman's ultimate super duper top secret jutsu!
There were idle doodles over the page.
"To master the sexy-no-jutsu," Naruto begins molding his face in the perfect mask of Iruka-sensei. Konohamaru tries not to laugh, "You will need a guide."
He slaps down a magazine on the desk in front of him with a tremendous amount of pride.
Konohamaru's eyes bulge out, "You sure we should be looking at this, boss-man."
"Well if the old geezer reads it, why not us?" Naruto flaps through the pages of naked girl after barely clothed girl to another naked girl. Both boys oogle at her large breasts.
"Naruto-niichan?"
"What?"
"Do you think those are real?"
Naruto transforms into her, and bounces his body around for extra measure. He blows a kiss to finish the image. Both boys share very red faces and giggles. This would be the ultimate jutsu. Their ultimate jutsu.
Konohamaru thinks that it's perfect, he raises a thumb up in approval, "Good job, boss-man!"
They both get caught on what was dubbed, Take-over-Konoha-with-sexy-jutsu aka Boss-man becomes Hokage and Konohamaru becomes his right hand man.
And grandpa smacks his head.
"What on earth do you think you are doing, you idiot?"
Konohamaru smirks and brings his hands together, forming seals, chortling all the way.
"Not today old man! Sexy-no-jutsu!"
And the transformation works against the old man who doubles back on his chair, raising an eyebrow with pinked cheeks. Hiruzen Sarutobi let out a squawk of indignation.
Konohamaru cheekily laughs, and runs out the door, boss-man would be so proud of him. It worked against the old-man, it can work against anything!
But somehow he doesn't feel inclined to use it in front of his uncle. As far as he remembers, his uncle was always so mad at him and honestly, what was his deal?
"Does Uncle Asuma hate me?"
And the old Hokage looks down at his grandson tiredly and rubs into his hair affectionately, "No Konohamaru, Uncle Asuma does not hate you."
Konohamaru and his uncle barely ever talked. But they were talking right now.
"You are wasting village resources," Asuma continues, glaring at him, "Nobody has time for your pranks."
And Konohamaru snaps.
"They don't have to care! I'm no longer the honored grandson!" His bottom upper lip is trembling, and his nose is starting to tickle with snot, "B-because grandpa is dead."
And Asuma rubs the soles of his palms against his tired eyes and sighs inwardly, tasting the words on his lips before he let them out.
"The village is proud of their Hokage." He says quietly, "And you should be proud of grandpa's sacrifice. He wouldn't want you to seek revenge."
And the boy frowns.
"He would want you to grow up strong to protect his precious people. He died for your safety, Konohamaru."
His brother loved his village more than him. He was crying openly, holding up the tiny child in his arms, his wife behind him was sighing, utterly exhausted from the delivery. She rests back against the bed railings and watches the scene in front of her with a smile.
And Asuma could hardly believe it.
His own nephew. He looks up to his teary eyed father.
"Father," his brother whispers, "What would you like to name him? Your first grandson."
And his father with tears streaming down his eyes is looking at his new grandson, Asuma walks up to him and puts an arm around his shoulders. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a happy, watery laugh.
"I just never thought I would live to see this. Biwako, we're going to be grandparents!"
Asuma wishes his mother could have been here.
Biwako Sarutobi would probably sigh, "Another boy? Why couldn't we have a girl for once, but no," she would glare at the two of them, "I get stuck with two boys who would leave their socks lying around the house. And don't get me started on all the girl-names that I had in mind."
Then she would blame her husband for her predicament, "We could have tried for a girl, but nope, your father decided he was done after two boys."
But nevertheless, he imagines her there with tears leaking out from her eyes, streaming down her taut cheeks, sniffling how she would have to buy a whole new set of baby boy clothes because she was expecting a girl. And how she longs to dress a girl in pretty frills and teach her flower-making. But she'll settle for a boy, again.
He looks back at his nephew who starts crying loudly, and his clumsy brother looking nervously from him to his father.
"Why is he crying?" He looks frantically to his wife, and the other two males are equally lost.
She beckons them closer and takes her son, shushing him quietly in the crook of her arm. She kisses his forehead.
"No crying little Konohamaru. Mama's always here for you. And uncle and daddy and grandpa too! You are so loved!"
And Asuma doesn't know how many years will have passed before they all start leaving, one by one.
"You are so loved, Konohamaru."
So he does something he hasn't done in a long time. He draws the boy into an embrace. And the boy stiffens.
"Cry." He orders.
And the boy sniffles, and then wails into his jacket.
"Don't leave me too, Ungle Asuma!"
And the older Sarutobi smiles into his younger nephew's shoulder, "I won't."
And the seasons pass, the village gains a new Hokage, old wounds heal themselves in the passage of time. And perhaps no one will really forget, but time really does dull the pain. Things are changing around here. And it's a warm summer evening. He has his hands digging into his pockets as he stares down at the graves of his family members. The chipped words into the gravestones telling of their names.
He hears a scuffle of feet.
Konohamaru perks his head up.
Shikamaru looks at him and nods. He lights up a cigarette silently.
And the two of them stand side by side over the gravestone of his uncle.
Shikamaru breaks the silence, "Did you visit her lately?"
"Yeah," Konohamaru rubs the back of his neck, "She's growing well. She's a spitting image of him. Kurenai-baachan tells me that she's a little prankster too." He chuckles a little.
Mirai Sarutobi would raise up two fingers at him every time she was asked about her age. And she would say her name proudly.
"Miwai Sawutobi!"
And when he would ask her what his name was, she would grin and reply, with crisp syllables. His heart would clench.
"K-ko-nohamawu!"
Konohamaru feels nothing but pride when she starts to talk. He squeezed her tightly into a hug, kissing the top of her head. She's already playing with rubber shuriken and throwing them against the walls.
He won't dare teach her anything yet, because her mother would have his head.
The Nara smiles a little at that.
"He would have been so proud of her." He blows out a puff of smoke.
And Konohamaru corrects him.
"He is."
And the sun peers through the clouds over the gravestones of the Sarutobi family.
Thank you for reading.